


How It Starts

by TheMidnightOwl



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Batjokes, First Kiss, M/M, Porn, Porn With Plot, Sexual Tension, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-30
Updated: 2017-04-30
Packaged: 2018-10-25 16:27:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10768059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMidnightOwl/pseuds/TheMidnightOwl
Summary: No matter what happened to them, they always ended up facing one another again eventually.  People die.  Sometimes Joker escapes, sometimes Batman catches him and sends him to Arkham; either way the Joker would always be back.  And they were always ready to go.  Always ready to see the game through to the end.  It was all they knew.  It was in their blood.





	How It Starts

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever batjokes fic, and first Batman fic in general. Please be gentle. I have no idea if either of them sound in character. I hope they do. Enjoy the sexual tension.

Ten years.

Ten years they'd played this game. Ten years chasing each other, dancing around one another, spilling the other's blood, breaking knuckles and teeth and just about anything else, really. No matter what happened to them, they always ended up facing one another again eventually. People die. Sometimes the clown escapes, sometimes Batman catches him and sends him to Arkham; either way the clown would always be back, ready to kill just to get the Bat's attention. Even when Batman wins, he loses, because no one can ever hold the Joker for more than a few weeks.

This time was no different. Joker had given chase, and Bruce ran after him with a special kind of rage burning in his stomach. It only took two days for the madman to return to the streets after his most recent intake at Arkham. Joker hadn't just used Joker gas on innocent civilians, he locked them in their office and poisoned them with a diluted form of his gas that killed them slower. They had to feel their lungs disintegrating and their muscles spasming into that twisted grin for twenty minutes. Twenty minutes that Bruce hadn't been able to use to save them. But he heard them. The security cameras in the office had sound, which Barbara linked him to. He heard everything. Twenty innocent souls lost because the Joker found it humorous. Bruce's vision was red as he chased his greatest adversary over rooftops.

Bruce was about to grab the clown's tailcoat when he leapt. On instinct, Bruce opened his cape, ready to glide to the building below, but Joker caught the lightning rod last second and spun back safely onto the roof, breaking into a run again. Bruce growled in frustration and turned, grappling the way back onto the roof.

His boots felt like lead, like he would never catch up to the Joker in time to punish him for his cruelty. The burn in his lungs that normally motivated him on felt like it was cutting off his oxygen. The clown was a blur of purple 50 yards ahead, jumping across gaps with greater agility than usual. Bruce pushed on. He had slipped up with the lightning rod; anger had clouded his judgement, not staying ahead of the Joker's quick thinking. His anger was a tool; he would not let it become a weakness.

He leapt and opened his cape. Landing gracefully, he sprinted with all he had to get in range of the clown. Just as the Joker was about to jump again, Bruce unhooked his grapple gun and fired, pulling the Joker back onto the hard rooftop with all his strength. Joker summersaulted backwards and rolled onto his back with a fit of laughter. Bruce used the opportunity to stalk towards him. Joker was still clutching his stomach with laughter when Bruce yanked him violently to his feet by his lapels.

"Y"know," Joker started, still giggling, "I thought I lost you back there. I was considering stopping and letting you catch up." His eyes were predatory. "I wasn't done playing yet."

"I am," Bruce growled. Joker made a noise of frustration and began to struggle. Bruce easily immobilized his arms by gripping him painfully by the forearms. Joker immediately pulled himself up by his arms and landed a two-leg kick to the Bat's abdomen, pulling himself free when the blow caused Batman to loosen his grip.

Bruce waited to catch his breath before giving chase again. He often forgot how strong the Joker really was; his thin stature shouldn't lend itself to that level of strength. Especially in his legs. The Joker never fights with his legs, but when he gets a chance to deliver a kick it packs a punch harder than his fists. Those strong legs carried him through the streets and rooftops with a stamina to match the Batman's, perhaps even outdo. They have never reached a point where either was too exhausted to run or fight on. Always ready to go. Always ready to see the game through to the end. It was all they knew. It was in their blood.

Joker turned on his heels, realizing the way he was going was a dead end. The split second it took him to change his direction was enough for Bruce to pounce. They landed in a graceless fight for dominance in a strange narrow gap between two towers of one building. Bruce won, dragging the clown to his feet and pinning him against cold brick. He gripped both of Joker’s wrists in one hand above his head. Joker arched his spine, from pain or pleasure Bruce didn’t know. Probably both.

“Well,” Joker huffed in amusement, “that’s one way of sweeping a girl off her feet.” Bruce used his free hand to slam Joker’s head to the wall by his neck, which earned him a fit of choked laughter. “What’s wrong, darling?” Joker asked, his tone weak from lack of air, “something stressing you out?”

“How many lives did you just take,” Bruce growled.

“That’s your job, not mine,” Joker grinned. “I do the fun stuff, you handle the boring stuff. The numbers and families and blah blah blah.”

“Thirty-three.”

“Well why would you ask if you already knew the answer, silly?” Bruce answered that with a knee to the Joker’s stomach. He released the man’s neck to allow him to double over in pain. And again, was met with laughter.

“Tell me something, Bats,” Joker looked up again, his green eyes gleaming with a spark that told Bruce he was deconstructing something in his mind, which meant trouble. “If you care about them so much, why do we do this, hm? Why do we get to have all these moments between us? Just you and me? If you really were only in this for ‘justice,’ as you say, why, oh why, my darling, do you give me so much undivided attention?”

Bruce didn’t answer him, not deigning to justify the question with a response. No matter what he said, Joker would always have a counter, and there were some times he just didn’t want to know what the Joker thought. Sometimes it was better for his sanity that he not know Joker’s perspective. However, his silence never did stop Joker from continuing to talk.

“Because I think you like this. I mean, I know you enjoy it in general, the thrill of the chase and all. I think you enjoy having me all to yourself, even if just for a little while.” He smiled in that way that seemed too wide for his face. “I think, you want it to be just you and me as much as I do.”

“Shut up.”

“Never been good at that. I know you say you’re tired of this, tired of our little game, but I know you, and I know me, and I know us. You live for this. You were made for this. Just like me. You and I, we’re made for each other. It’s you and me to the end of the world, baby.”

He arched his back further, stretching his taut muscles and canting his hips out towards Bruce with a smile that was more predatory than amused. Bruce’s face was mere inches away from Joker’s, their breaths ghosting across the other’s skin. Their eyes locked. Bruce refused to be the one to break eye contact, no matter how badly he wanted to. The Joker’s piercing green eyes were dilated. No matter how many times he saw it, he had to deny it to himself. He stared into his enemies eyes with all the vitriol he could, and every time what he saw reflected back was love. Dark, twisted, obsessive love.

They stayed like that, unsure of the time that passed, each one trying to sway the other to see their perspective. Each one battling for dominance of the other’s mind. Bruce’s superior height and strength gave him no advantage here. The only weapon he had was his mind, and that notion was daunting, because how do you impose reality and reason on someone whose brain has no concept of it?

Joker squinted. Only just, and only for a second, but it set Bruce’s entire body and mind on alert. Joker did nothing for a few seconds, and then he leaned in closer, closer. His eyes challenged Batman to be the one to pull away. Bruce didn’t move. Joker’s eyes glanced down and then back up in one movement. Eyes still open, he pressed his lips against Bruce’s. The touch was feather light and only lasted a few seconds, Joker not daring to push his luck, but he saw the alarm in his Bat’s eyes. And how his pupils had dilated.

Something inside him broke. Bruce could feel it, this harsh cold rippling down his spine and through his extremities. He pulled Joker off the wall only to spin him around and slam his face into it. Joker laughed into the brick. “Aw, c’mon Batsy,” he groaned, “we were having a moment.”

Still pinning the Joker’s wrists, Bruce’s free hand found the nape of the man’s neck. He wanted to smash Joker’s head into the brick more and more until his blood painted the ground, until he lost consciousness, until… No, still not that far. Ice burned in his gut. He felt so cold. Another chill shot through him, and in its wake, this time, there was fire.

“…Bats?” Joker asked. Batman’s hand disappeared from his neck, which was not what he had expected from a touch like that. One of Batman’s knees was locking his own into place, controlling his legs. He wasn’t entirely sure, but it felt like the Bat had trembled. He heard Batman doing something, adjusting his suit, or taking something out. He grinned. “Ooh, what new toy do you have for me now?”

His neck was smashed into the brick. “Shut. Up.”

Joker laughed. The laughter stopped immediately when he felt the Bat’s hand at his waist. “Bats?” Fingers hooked into his trousers; Joker’s jaw went slack. His pants and underwear were unceremoniously tugged down to his knees. His gasp of surprise became a moan. “Oh Bats, yes.” He kept repeating yes, trying desperately to reassure his Bat that he was anything but unwilling. Batman’s knee was no longer against his, and apart from that nothing more had happened. He didn’t dare move, but unable to take it any longer, he breathed, barely above a whisper, “Bats, _please.”_

The world around them disappeared when the Batman finally pushed inside him. Joker moaned desperately, wishing he had control of his arms so he could better push back. His Bat was moving so slowly, what a gentleman, but Joker was never all that good at manners. When his Bat thrust again, he pushed his hips backwards, bringing him in to the hilt. Joker shuddered with pleasure.

“C’mon Bats,” Joker dared, voice deep and heavy, “show me what you’ve got.”

That chill returned again, giving way to warmth unlike any Bruce had felt before. With one last push to the Joker’s wrists, he released the man’s arms to grip his hips. Joker braced himself against the wall. Sanity long gone, Bruce thrust into his greatest enemy, releasing ten years of frustration, of hatred, of failure and hopelessness and the sexual tension he could no longer deny. This wasn’t love. This was animal. Primal. Base. He adjusted his grip and pushed his knees into Joker’s, bringing him closer to the wall and their bodies more flush when Bruce thrust in. For the first time since Bruce had met him, Joker was unable to form words, the only sounds from his lips moans and gasps. Mercifully, he was wise enough to be quiet about it, the sounds like whispers in wind. But Bruce could hear them, and it fueled him on.

Joker’s hands scrambled in vain for purchase on the wall. His head kept lolling back out of sheer bliss. It was everything he’d never dared dreaming about. Bats had gone in dry, and it was rough and merciless and painful in all the right ways. He couldn’t have stopped the sounds pouring out of his lips if he had wanted to. Which he did not. He wanted his Bat to know just what he did to him, to know he was enjoying this, and that the Bat should, too.

Batman’s breath was heavy, and Joker swore he could hear desperation in his huffs. Almost inaudible, he wasn’t entirely sure if it were there, but he liked to think it was. He matched his breathing with the Bat, syncing the rhythm they had established further. Oh yes, there was definitely a pitch to his Bat’s exhales. Joker grinned his widest grin, and used all the self restraint he had not to laugh. Batman would leave if he laughed. No, he couldn’t leave, not until he was done.

Suddenly, Joker saw stars. His gasp turned into a moan as a shudder rippled its way through his muscles. The white hot sensation relaxed his taut, making himself fall forward, bracing the walls with his forearms now. The Bat had hit his prostate. That was a new one. He felt the Bat adjust his stance, change his grip on the Joker’s hips, and thrust with more force. Joker keened; his Bat was trying to hit that spot again. “God yes, Bats,” he panted. Oh, wasn’t his Bat just magnificent. Here he had thought the Bat was releasing his own frustration using the Joker’s body, but he was actively seeking to pleasure the man beneath him. Joker filed that away in his brain: the Bat always pleasured his partner.

The rhythm fell out of sync. The Bat’s thrusts became more frantic. Joker couldn’t stop a quiet giggle from his exhale. “C’mon Bats,” he whispered with a gasp, just loud enough for his Bat to hear it. “Give it to me. “C’mon, baby, let me have it.”

Fuck, Bruce hated him. Hated him with every fibre of his being. He hated the way the Joker always managed to egg him on, always knew what to say to get a spark of anger in his gut. But most of all, right now, he hated how much those needy whispers pooled in his lower body, made him need just as badly. He felt his release churning. Two shallow bucks of his hips followed one last hard thrust, and then Bruce felt warmth unlike any he’d ever felt flood through him, felt his cock pumping his release into the Joker’s pliant body. He could not stop the quiet, but still audible moan the flush of warmth pulled from his throat.

Utterly spent and mind void of reason, he slumped into Joker’s back. He felt a jolt shake Joker’s body; Bruce assumed he’d just had his own release. Joker let their bodies fall forward, himself against the wall, Bruce against his back, his hands still resting on Joker’s hips, but not gripping. They stayed like that, catching their breaths. Though Bruce could not feel Joker’s heart, nor Joker his, he felt like their hearts were synced along with their breathing. For just one fleeting moment, Bruce felt connected to the man beneath him.

And then the implications of that flooded his mind and his senses returned to him. Jesus fucking Christ, what had he just done?

He pushed himself straight using Joker’s back instead of the wall, crushing him further against it. Joker sighed fondly. Bruce fixed his codpiece into place, still pressing Joker into the rough brick.

“Do not make a sound,” Bruce growled. For once, Joker listened.

With one last push to grate Joker’s face against the wall, Bruce left. It felt more like fleeing. He had let the Joker go instead of trying to take him in. But he couldn’t, not after that. Not because he cared about the clown at all, but because he worried he would be unable to hide his guilt. He prayed to a God he didn’t believe in that Joker would keep this to himself. He knew it was inevitable that he would use it as a weapon against Bruce, make him hesitate or slip up. But would he tell it to others? Would others believe him? They might use it anyway.

When he finally returned to the bat cave, he shed his second skin as fast as possible to take a long, hot, guilty shower. He bowed his head in shame, forehead resting on the tiles. Memories flashed behind his closed eyes, memories of hands bracing brick, of powerful thrusts making those hands slip, of his head bowed towards that mocking purple coat, of surprisingly soft skin under his chin when he fell forward after his release. He had pointedly ignored how well they slotted together like that. Now, however, it was tattooing itself into Bruce’s brain. He groaned with frustration as tendrils of arousal stirred in his groin at the very thought of their coupling.

He scrubbed furiously at his skin, trying to wash the grimy feeling of humiliation left on his body and mind. He scrubbed until his skin was pink, but still the filth clung to him. Because it was him. He felt like a monster. Like he had somehow justified all the Joker had done with this act. Like he was unfit to be the Batman anymore. And if nothing else, that last one was certainly correct.

He breathed out a few shaky breaths, ones he told himself were not sobs. Not that lying to himself would really get him anywhere now. The deed was done. Now he had to learn to live with it. To live with himself in the wake of it.

Feeling like the shower was nowhere near long enough, Bruce begrudgingly turned the water off and wrapped himself in a towel. He threw on a change of clothes he always kept in the cave’s shower room and made for the elevator. On the way, he spared a glance at the case where the batsuit hung. He exhaled a steeling breath and got into the elevator.

Maybe he didn’t deserve to be Batman anymore, but the city still needed a Batman, and he’d have to do for now.

[xxx]

It took ten days for the Joker to reappear after their… copulation. Ten days was not enough time for Bruce to quell the anxiety at the thought of having to face Joker again. This was new territory. He had never prepared himself for the idea of Batman being compromised. He could not predict how the clown will respond, what he will do, what he will say or not say, how he will undoubtedly use it as a tool. He took great care putting on the batsuit that night, reminding himself that Batman is not afraid. Batman is fear. He let the weight of the armored plates sheathing and moving with his muscles remind himself of his own strength. It was no different than any other weakness Joker had tried to exploit to get him to slip up. And just like all the times previous, it would not work.

Gotham welcomed him with an unusually warm night. Her taller structures glowed in the late hour, illuminating surrounding rooftops of smaller buildings and aiding the street lights on the ground. The light felt almost blinding tonight. Bruce sped through the streets, weaving in and out of traffic far above the speed limit to get to the scene as quickly as possible. A special sort of rage pulled at his gut. Joker had gassed the intensive care unit at Gotham General Hospital. He sealed the doors, so the gas only reached those on the inside, but he still killed thirty people. People he wouldn’t remember, people he’s probably forgotten already, people who had lives and families and passions and dreams. Gone. All gone. So many confirmed Joker killings, God knows how many they didn’t know about. All he ever brought was madness and death. And Bruce had -

No. He wasn’t getting sucked into another round of self pity. He had a job to do. Find the Joker. Lock him up and make a better effort to keep him locked up this time. No more leaving it in the hands of people who underestimate his intelligence every time. He’ll buy Arkham if he has to. He’s going away tonight and he’s never getting out again.

He leapt out of the batmobile and made towards Gordon. There wasn’t any time for talking, he only needed to know which direction Joker had run. Gordon didn’t miss a beat.

“He ran that way, took a side street on the left. Hasn’t been too long.”

He considered taking the batmobile to try and corner the clown, but if Joker took an alley or climbed a fire escape the batmobile would end up slowing him down more than going on foot. He broke into a run, cape billowing behind him and a fierce determination churning in his gut.

The cowl’s microphone picked up sounds of shoes against tarmac running at a pace that matched his own. He pushed himself faster. He was ready for this to end.

He finally had the clown in his sights. Joker looked over his shoulder not too long after. A feral grin stretched across his lips. So much for getting close before being spotted. Didn’t matter. Joker climbed a fire escape, and so the game began, across the rooftops of Gotham as it always had, and always will. Joker kept a frustratingly large lead. Bruce pushed on. Eventually he will catch up, because Joker will want him to.

Joker led towards the narrows. Bruce swore inwardly. If there was one person who could know a section of Gotham more than Bruce, it would be Joker with the narrows. He grabbed his grapple gun. They would not make it to the narrows.

The roof they were currently on sloped down at the edge. Joker slid legs-first off the slope, which didn’t make sense; there was a solid building there just shorter than this one. Bruce peered over the edge; the roof had caved in since the last time he had been in the narrows. Or someone knocked a hole in it. Most likely the latter. Bruce leapt, using his cape to break his fall.

This building had been abandoned for as long as Bruce could remember. An unusually solid structure for the narrows, the faded brick building lived with its doors and windows boarded, devoid of any graffiti and with no signs of attempted entrance. Until now.

Joker was across the room, arms crossed, grinning that too-wide grin. Bruce glowered.

“Nice of you to turn up, sweetie,” Joker teased. “You’re getting slow in your old age, I think. Y’know a girl can only wait so long for her man to come around.”

“There were two children in that room,” Bruce deadpanned.

Joker shrugged. “There weren’t any when I placed the gas grenades. That’s the thing about delayed detonation, Bats. Pure luck who it’ll hit. Or bad luck, I guess you would call it. Either way it’s all the same for me.” His grin returned.

Bruce took long, heavy strides towards the clown. Joker mirrored him. This was going to be the fight of their lives. Either Joker was leaving here half conscious in cuffs and banished to a lifetime in Arkham or Bruce was leaving with the harsh acrid sting of failure. Dead, even, if Joker got that chance. But he wouldn’t. Batman never left a kill shot open.

Joker got the first hit, but Bruce drew first blood. Bruce fought with more ferocity than he ever felt he’d used. Joker’s defense was as unpredictable as ever, but his unpredictability had become predictable for Bruce, who was always quick to adapt to however Joker dodged and punched.

Joker laughed a joyous laugh as Bruce landed an impressive punch to his jaw. “Oh, I love this,” Joker breathed as they continued their violent dance. “Better than sex, wouldn’t you say, Bats?” There it was. Joker thought he had a gold mine and he was starting to cash in. “Although, I had some pretty amazing sex the other day. How bout you?”

Bruce growled and swung again. Joker dodged, but did not attempt to throw one back. “Oh, that sounds familiar. I think I made you make that pretty purr a few times last time I saw you. Well, _felt_ you. I couldn’t see very well.” He barked a single laugh. “All I could see were stars.”

The clown was dodging with unusual grace, and not returning very many blows. Cocky bastard. Bruce shook off the feeling that he was losing control of the situation.

Bruce noted a particularly jagged-looking wall on their left. He started circling, lining Joker up with that wall and then pouncing. Joker’s spine and skull crashed against the raised brick with a grunt, which turned into a laugh.

“Oh, please tell me this ends like last time,” he moaned.

“I’m taking you to Arkham,” Bruce said darkly. He moved his hold to Joker’s neck. The temptation to suffocate him into unconsciousness was severe.

“Was that your plan last time too?”

“That was a mistake.”

“That was a long time coming. There’s something about us, Bats. You know it, I know it, and last week you finally did something about it. And you did it all by yourself.”

Bruce’s blood boiled. “There is _nothing_ between us, Joker.”

Joker hummed darkly. His pitch lowered. “Then what happened?”

Bruce hesitated. He knew that was always bad around Joker. He saw right through people when they hesitated, even if just for a moment. “Lapse of judgement.”

Joker’s smile stretched and his giggling morphed into loud, cackling laughter. _“Lapse of judgement?_ Batsy, baby, I wouldn’t call pounding me into a wall with your dick instead of your fist a _lapse of judgement.”_

Screw keeping it together. Bruce lifted Joker in the air by the lapels of his stupid purple coat and threw him into another wall. His side smacked against brick and wood, eliciting another laugh. Bruce hated that Joker’s response to anything was to laugh. Happiness, sorrow, pain, murder, everything was amusing. Even after Joker was taken away for good, Bruce would always hear that laugh in his nightmares, forever haunting his sanity.

Joker found his footing in time to dodge Bruce’s next attack. “And that’s another thing,” he started. Bruce wished he would just shut the fuck up for once in his life. He aimed at Joker’s mouth, hoping to quiet him. The clown blocked and dodged, not attempting to land any hits of his own. “You always dodge thinking about us. You say you know me -” Bruce finally landed a punch to Joker’s ribs. A quick cackle. “-but you’ll never think about us. You wanna know why?” Joker blocked another punch and responded with a well-placed kick to Bruce’s abdomen, causing him to recoil. Joker stomped his head to bring the Bat to his knees. “Because I’m right, and you _know it.”_ He dropped down to Bruce’s eye line, crouched and balanced on his toes. “Does it terrify you? Does it disgust you? Does it embarrass you? You really can’t ignore it now, can you? I’m in your head now, and darling, I’m not going anywhere.”

Bruce head-butted him, knocking him off balance and onto the floor. He stood and pulled Joker up with him by his lapels again. Joker planted his feet quicker than Bruce anticipated and he was able to break the hold. They stared at each other for a few beats, tensed and ready to go. Bruce poured all of his hatred into his glare, and Joker returned with that chilling stare that was equal parts hatred and affection.

“I hope you appreciate the lengths I went to to see you again, darling,” Joker taunted. “Hospitals are hard targets, there’s always eyes. And I let you into one of my humble abodes just so we could have a moment alone. No security cameras to spy on us, no one to impress except each other.” He giggled. “Did I impress you? You certainly impressed me. You surprised, me, too. I mean, did you even look for cameras?”

Bruce’s stomach dropped. He hadn’t. Hell, he hadn’t even thought about it. He tried to keep the abject horror out of his expression, but Joker still saw it. “Don’t worry sweetie, I did. No one saw it. Our little secret. Anywho, you impressed me, pumpkin. Hell, you _surprised_ me. Out of everything you can do, I never would have guessed you’d do _me.”_

Bruce huffed. “You’re overdoing it.”

“Well, you know me,” Joker said nonchalantly. Impatient, Bruce closed the distance between them yet again.

He started to admit that he had lost control, but at that point it was too late to get it back. He attacked with a fervor that could only be described as bloodthirsty. He felt like a passenger in his own brain and body, like someone else was driving. He wanted to stop, wanted all of this madness to stop. Whatever good remained in him wondered if he were no better than the people he imprisons if this was the way he would respond to embarrassment.

Joker didn’t seem to want to fight back much. He on occasion blocked, but apart from that he seemed to give Bruce an easy target. Until Joker tripped him. The timing was perfect, Bruce losing his balance with no chance to recorient himself. Joker fell back, Bruce forward, like he was pulling Bruce on top of him. Hell, that’s probably exactly what he was doing.

Their chests touched, but only for a second. Bruce caught himself by his hands and retreated immediately, but the clown was quicker, wrapping his legs around Bruce’s hips and locking his ankles. He couldn’t feel it through the kevlar, but he knew it was a vice grip. The man’s damn legs were strong.

“Get off me,” Bruce demanded.

“I’m pretty sure you’re the one on me,” Joker giggled. Blood ran down his face from his nose, mouth, and a gash on his forehead from one of Bruce’s gauntlets. He wrapped his arms around Bruce’s shoulders and hoisted himself up to look his Bat in the eye, once again proving his well-concealed strength.

“C’mon, Bats,” he purred, “You’ve got so, so, so much bottled up in that big gorgeous brain of yours. You need to let it out, Bats, it’s not healthy.” He bucked his hips and grabbed Bruce by the neck to whisper in his covered ear. “Give it all to me.” The slightest of pressures accompanied by a wet sound told Bruce that Joker had just licked his cowl. Joker’s lips ghosted against the side of the mask, continuing across Bruce’s cheek, until they were nose to nose, his eyes burning with defiance and lust. The blood covering his face made the green of the irises more vibrant, and more dangerous.

Joker saw the Bat’s pupils dilate. It was the tiniest muscle movement, barely noticeable, but at this distance and with how intimately he always watched his Bat, he caught it. He suppressed the urge to grin. Not the right time. He had to be careful again, gentle, just enough to cause the spark that would turn into a flame. Or, preferably, gasoline on a pilot light. Slowly, slowly, he brushed his lips against his Bat’s, the slightest pressure but enough to be a kiss. He kept eye contact the whole time. He felt his Bat’s lips tremble as he pulled away, the touch over in but a few seconds. Those gorgeous eyes dilated again.

Bruce felt it again, that feeling like something inside of him was breaking, like his brain was a ball of rubber bands and one of them had just been pulled to snapping. His hand flew to Joker’s throat and slammed his head against the floor. In the same motion, he bowed his head to take Joker’s lips in a searing kiss. Hard and rough and more gasping than lip locking, but it woke the fire in Bruce’s soul, the fire that for so long had been suppressed, the fire that burned for intimacy and companionship. Dear God what flavor of fucked up was he that the Joker could be the answer to that.

Joker could not keep the grin out of his lips as they opened and closed on Bruce’s mouth, and Bruce couldn’t even find it in him to be irritated by it. He just needed, fuck, he needed…

He removed Joker’s arms from around his neck. For a moment Joker’s eyes flashed in warning, but his concern gave way to pure joy when Bruce braced himself on his knees, pulling Joker’s legs off his hips and in between them, and then unceremoniously flipped Joker onto his stomach. An airy giggle followed. Bruce didn’t care. God, he _didn’t care._ This wasn’t logical, this wasn’t ethical, but he just _did not care_. He yanked Joker’s trousers down to his ankles, then with a single moment’s hesitation removed his codpiece. Joker propped himself up on his elbows and flashed a sinful grin. Bruce’s mind provided an image of Joker in the same position without the colorful clothes, his porcelain skin glistening with sweat and his spine arching in just the right way to flex all his lean musculature.

Well that thought certainly, shamefully, hardened his cock in record time. He almost felt dizzy from the sudden rush of blood. Or maybe it was because he’d just lost his mind. Didn’t matter. Nothing fucking mattered anymore.

Joker pushed up onto his knees, giving the Bat better access while also giving himself better leverage. Batman gripped his hips before pushing in. It was just as rough as it was last time, Batman clearly knowing nothing about male on male sex etiquette. Not that Joker minded. On the contrary, he reveled in it. There was no foreplay, no preparation, just take, take, take. His Bat was so stupid for someone so brilliant. Useless at emotion, preferring logic over expression. Joker lived in a world unburdened by logic and free to feel whatever, whenever, and however he wanted. He was free to flirt with his Bat with no shame whatsoever, free to point out every time his Bat unconsciously responded to his attention. He was free to laugh at murder victims and laugh at classic comedies, use his anger as a tool to make people fear him, use his charm to manipulate or to endear. He was free. His Bat was not. But he was learning. Oh, was Joker ready to be his teacher.

A soft, desperate moan accentuated Batman’s sigh. Joker shuddered. Ringing sound out of that gorgeous mouth was going to be difficult. With a feral grin, Joker accepted the challenge. On the next thrust of the Bat’s hips, he thrusted back. Batman gripped his hips tighter in response. Joker commandeered the rhythm, setting it for his Bat and showing him how they could be forever if he only accepted this. the Bat’s fingers were going to leave bruises from how hard they gripped. The fingers curled around the crest of his pelvis, leaving the bruises almost on his stomach. He wanted it to bruise. He wanted something tangible to see and feel to remind him of this moment.

He dropped to his forearms again, ass shamelessly in the air, changing the angle. His Bat almost fell over from how determined he was not to pull out. Joker couldn’t resist a giggle. The Bat huffed but quickly recovered his balance and thrusting into him to restart the rhythm. Joker let himself become more vocal, accentuating each thrust with a moan or an airy hum. He grinned. He’d just felt the Bat’s cock twitch, which confirmed his guess that the Bat liked to hear him. So he did it again, and again, and again. He was unsure if talking would ruin the moment, would bring the Bat back and make him run away. But oh, he had something to say…

Joker pushed back, but not only because Bats was thrusting in. He pushed until his ass met the Bat’s armor, effectively taking in the Bat to the hilt. With a satisfied grin at the airy sigh that caused, Joker straightened his spine and pushed himself up off the ground. Bats wasted no time on this one; clearly he was familiar. He pulled Joker onto his lap and wrapped the man in his arms. He continued to thrust with all the power he had - which was a lot - into the clown. Joker in turn ground into his Bat’s hips. The rhythm was once again his, and it soon fell short as his Bat thrusted with wild abandon.

Joker arched his spine and drew himself into Batman by wrapping his arms backwards around the Bat’s neck. The tips of pointed ears appeared in his peripheral vision. Batsy was resting his head on his shoulder. He keened. Oh, but fuck was that just wonderful. And reassured him that he could talk.

“Oh, Bats,” he sighed, “Bats. You see what-”

His words became a soft cry as his Bat hit his prostate three times in a row. His orgasm wracked through his body as he came without a touch. He laughed an airy laugh.

“Oh, _Bats,”_ he mewled, “you see what you do to me? C’mon, baby, take me, take it all. Give it to me.”

Bruce held Joker down and squeezed him close as his orgasm vibrated through his muscles. Through the haze, he heard Joker mumble “good boy.” Another shudder. Fuck. When had Joker’s voice become so sultry?

Joker dropped his arms from around Bruce’s neck. He could feel the man’s hesitation; clearly, he didn’t know what to do now any more than Bruce did. A hand rested on his own; his arms were still around Joker. Jesus, he was hugging the Joker. And he was still inside him. He grabbed his arms back and and lifted Joker off of him with perhaps more force than necessary. He made quick work of putting himself back together. At least physically, anyway.

Joker stood and stretched, cracking his back with a satisfied sigh. Bruce very pointedly looked anywhere but at the ass that was being put on display in front of him. Finally, he heard the clown redress. Bruce was still on the ground, looking intently at the floor. What has he done. _God,_ what has he done. Barbara, Jason… _Jason…_

Joker frowned. This wasn’t how this was supposed to end. Batsy was supposed to be rejuvenated, not brooding some more. “I know this is probably the bit where I don’t talk, but-”

“Don’t.”

“-but I’ve never been good at doing what you say.” He crossed his wrists behind his back and took a few measured steps towards the Bat. He wasn’t looking at Joker, but that didn’t mean he didn’t know exactly how far away he was. “You’re thinking about your little birdie, right? Number two? And the commish’s daughter? And those two little children I killed earlier today? And, well, all the rest.” He grinned. “What, my darling, does any of that have to do with this? Why beat yourself up over it when it’s beyond your control.” He stopped just in front of Batman, whose head was still turned. He rested a hand on the Bat’s shoulder. “Oh, Batsy, we don’t choose who we fall in love with.”

His hand was swatted away. “I am not in love with you.”

Joker’s grin faltered. “Look me in the eye and say that again.”

Bruce looked up at Joker, whose normal mocking grin was nowhere to be found. Bruce couldn’t decide on a word for his expression. Carefully neutral, he decided. Not a natural blankness, one that required a bit of effort. He heard the words shrieking in his head, felt them burning on in his lungs, on his tongue, but when he opened his mouth, no air came, nor sound, nor words. He felt defeat weighing on his chest. He couldn’t even find the words to lie to Joker.

Joker smiled. Not one of his signature grins, but a small, genuine, sympathetic smile. With a pat, he turned and walked to look out a window that had been uncovered during their fight. He crossed his wrists behind his back again. “You go on now, Bats,” he said, voice distant. “Wouldn’t want them to catch us with our pants down, now would we?”  
Bruce looked at him, really looked at him. There was something he wasn’t seeing. There always was. But this felt different, this felt like something he should be seeing, but couldn’t. Something in the lines of Joker’s frame, the unusual gesture, the way he sounded; something was there. He continued to stare, fully aware that Joker knew he was being watched. For reasons Bruce could not see, he remained still and silent.

Bruce stood. He considered speaking up. What to say, he didn’t know. He remained like that a moment longer, staring at the back of his greatest enemy, the vicious killer, the man that had crippled his friend and murdered his son, the man that - no matter how much he tried not to - he felt drawn to.

He pulled out his grapple gun and threw himself into the darkness of night. His previous determination to lock the Joker away stayed behind at the safe house.

Alone in the dark, Joker released the breath he’d been holding.  He smiled, neither positive or negative.  If he wanted the Bat to see them the way he did, it was going to take work.  They weren’t there yet, but tonight was good.  It was a start.

**Author's Note:**

> How'd I do? I'd love to hear your thoughts. I'm not very good at catching if I'm out of character, or if I'm writing smut correctly lol. Thanks so much for reading!


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